


antebellum

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: A fun premise for a very serious fic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Belief, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Drama, F/F, F/M, Grieving, Helping Raise your Gay Lover's Kid, I know this isn't the way it probably works in canon but I started thinking WHAT IF IT DID THO, Justice, Love, Relationship Study, Requited Love, Sad, Self-Loathing, Slow Burn, Themes:, Things are not good, Unrequited Love, Written in all lowercase, going through an experimental stage, still darker than standard fare for me tho, this was gonna be angsty all the way through but then i was like nnnngeh nope cant do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8131756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: severa doesn't believe in the gods. for the longest time, she doesn't believe in herself, either. it's one of the things she and lucina have in common, and perhaps it's one of the reasons severa fell in love, but she's not surprised that it can't last. this is a story of gingham ribbons and tiny white hair clips and daughters called peanut, and also of kisses in the hayloft beneath the stars and the heartbreak of one who thinks herself unfit to be loved.it is about the fuckin' miracle of life and it is gross, messy, bloody, disgusting, and utterly beautiful.





	

**Author's Note:**

> dude dont look now but... *whispers* this is pretty gay bro
> 
> anyway i know the whole robin/2nd gen thing doesn't work this way in canon probably, bc the way i figure is they end up supporting the kid in the second timeline and not in the first bc thatd be Hella Creepy but then i started thinking what if that did happen tho?? what abt morgan tho??? and warrior-queen lucina with lil baby morgan constantly on her hip popped into my head and it wouldnt leave
> 
> end days is still better than this heap of steaming gay trash

the gods are cruel.  
  
severa long ago decided she didn't believe in the gods. perhaps it was premature; she was six at the time and did not know much about the gods except for what she learned in her history lessons in the schoolhouse on the ylisstol outskirts. there was a girl in her class named something pastel-colored like flora or felicity that was a priest's daughter and she knew all about the prayers the clergy send up to naga, things for safety and good harvests and rain. severa once asked her what some ancient old dragon has to do with safety and good harvests, and farrah couldn't answer for real, and just said naga sends down blessings upon those who deserve it— those who worship and pray, and not thief-spawned heathens like severa. and severa had pushed her into the sand pit and lifted six gold pieces from her silly little ribbon purse, and used them to buy peppermint sticks.  
  
she shared them with her father that afternoon, once she got back to the bakery. it was evening. the fireplace crackled as they sat on the rug in front of it, cross-legged, facing one another, the bag of peppermint sticks between them. her father opened it and poured himself a glass of hot cider. his thick woolen jacket was draped over the back of the chair by the fire. two books were on the seat— battered copies of how to make him fall for you in a fortnight and flower fortunes for the uncertain maiden, both at least fifteen years old. on top of those were a set of green gingham hair ribbons and a hairbrush. her father's old sword was propped up against the chair. these were the small things severa remembered on the day she decided the gods weren't real.  
  
_i pushed a girl down today,_ she said to him.  
  
_did she deserve it?_ her father asked.  
  
_she said i was a thief-spawned heathen and i'd never be blessed by naga, so._ severa had shrugged, and bitten her peppermint stick in half.  
  
_pretty rude of her,_ her father had said.  
  
_and then i stole some coins out of her purse,_ severa said, because she didn't believe in lying. _i used it to buy these._  
  
her father had chuckled. _now what have i told you about stealing, peanut?_  
  
_to only do it to people that are mean and nasty,_ severa had repeated, matter-of-fact.  
  
and he'd laughed, but told her no, that wasn't right, to not do it at all because she didn't need to. and she said _alright, daddy, i won't steal again._ he said it was good mama wasn't here, because she'd disapprove— and severa had nodded because she didn't want to disappoint her mother. but she didn't need to know.  
  
and then she had asked him, _do you believe in the gods?_  
  
he'd shrugged. _i never gave it any thought,_ he told her. _we'll ask mama when she gets home, alright?_ and then he'd stood up to get the door because someone rang the bell downstairs. severa pressed her face to the window to watch him talk to some soldier in ylissean formal livery severa has seen her mother wear to formal events. he said something to her father, and handed him a small wooden box, a silver spear, a folded letter, and a pair of tiny white hair clips.  
  
severa doesn't connect the dots at first. when her father nods to them and comes back upstairs, she runs to the top of the stairs and asks him why they took mama's hair clips. _she needs to wear them,_ she says, _otherwise we won't know if it's her when she comes back home._  
  
and her father leans the spear against the wall and puts the box, letter, and hair clips on the side table. he falls to his knees and pulls severa into a hug instead of answering her.  
  
_daddy,_ she says. _what did that man say?_  
  
and her father says _mama isn't coming home, peanut._  
  
_did she get lost?_ severa asks.  
  
_she died,_ her father says. _she's never coming home. it's just us now._  
  
and that's when severa decides the gods don't exist.

* * *

  
  
it's something of a weight off her chest, in fact. if the gods don't exist, then there's no cruel divine power deciding which children deserve to have parents that return to them and which don't. there's nobody deciding that some children's mothers die in the service of some ruler severa doesn't even care that much about because what good has he been in protecting his people if his soldiers don't even come home, nobody deciding that some children's fathers stop caring, stop getting out of bed, stop opening up the shop and getting up in the morning to bake the bread and cakes and cookies, stop calling their daughters 'peanut' and ruffling their hair. there's nobody deciding that little girls in ylisse with dead mothers and fathers that are shriveling with grief that they have to start to steal so they have a lunch to bring to school and leave at their fathers' bedsides in the hope he might eat it and come back to them, and eventually make them stop going to school because nobody there talks to her anymore because nobody knows what to say. there's nobody deciding that one day that same little girl is going to be told to gather up her things because she's moving in with her aunt sumia and uncle frederick at the garrison because her daddy has decided he has nothing to live for anymore, and making her think, _but what about me? aren't i worth living for?_ and there's nothing making her think and think and think about that until one day she decides _well, i guess i'm really not worth anything._ because what kind of god would put a little girl through that?  
  
if the gods don't exist, then it's her fault. maybe her mother didn't come back because the country's stupid flag and stupid exalt were more important than her daughter, maybe her father went and gave up because she really is worth nothing in the end, maybe nobody talks to her anymore because they can't think of a damned helpful thing to say to the pathetic thieving orphan that takes candy from the garrison kitchens and eats it alone on the rooftops listening to the messenger birds in the mail tower squawk at each other and pretending she's worth a damn to the world. maybe it was always something she could've done better. maybe she shouldn't have stolen faye's coins when she was six.  
  
the war gets worse. more children and half-families move into the garrison. exalt chrom brings his daughter when severa is nine. she's sitting on the roof with a bag of shortbread cookies when the princess arrives.  
  
the princess is ten and her mother has been dead since she was three. she's tall and lanky and sunburned and freckled and doesn't like shirts with sleeves. she trains with her wooden sword every afternoon and runs laps around the garrison with the general's daughter kjelle, and sometimes they make it a race, but lucina always wins because she's taller and older, though not by much. she can climb trees but not buildings, and one time she broke one of the support pillars in the garrison and tried to fix it by nailing another board to the beam.  
  
one day the exalt doesn't return. lucina didn't cry. she took falchion from her aunt and clutched it like a lifeline, and hid in the hayloft. and she wailed, heartbroken cries that sounded like they came from deep inside her chest and hurt when they come out. she curled around herself and wanted the world to stop.  
  
severa knows how it feels. so even though the barn doors were closed on the day lucina ran out of tears to cry, severa climbed in through the window and gives her a sandwich.  
  
_go away,_ lucina had tried to order. but she was ten years old and her voice hurt too much to even try to give orders.  
  
_no,_ severa had told her. _i brought you a sandwich. you must be hungry._  
  
wordlessly, lucina took a half of it. it was slices of salt pork with tomatoes and onions, and too appetizing for her to pass up. so she ate the sandwich, and rubbed her eyes, and looked up at severa, sitting cross-legged in the soft hay.  
  
_why?_ lucina asked.  
  
_because i get it,_ severa answered.  
  
they sit in silence. at one point they lean back on the hay, heads almost touching, staring at the clouds through a hole in the barn roof.  
  
_it's not fair,_ lucina said.  
  
_yeah,_ severa agreed. _hey, blue._  
  
_what is it?_ lucina asked.  
  
_do you believe in the gods?_ severa asked.  
  
and lucina took some time to answer. _i don't think i do anymore,_ she finally said. _i'm not sure if i ever did._  
  
severa had hummed. she spotted a cloud shaped like pegasus wings. she remembered what it was like to fly with her mother when she was small, reaching out to see if she could touch the clouds. she imagined they felt like cotton candy, and would taste sweet if she caught some of them on her hand and licked it. safe in front of her mother in the pegasus saddle, the sky was as much a cradle as the one she slept in. she's had dreams about that before— but once her mother died the wind stopped kissing her cheeks and the clouds stopped being comforting things. she fell in those dreams, and the clouds laughed as she hurtled towards the ground, saying how stupid it was that she thought the sky was once sweet. _the sky kills, stupid,_ they scream at her. _stupid. stupid. stupid._  
  
she has tried to stop thinking about flying.  
  
_i don't believe in them either,_ severa had said then. _maybe if one of them looks at this mess and decides to fix it with a wave of their big incorporeal hand— maybe they'd stop all the hating and war, and bring our parents back while they're at it._  
  
_there are too many hurting people in the world,_ lucina had said, and it stuck so vividly in severa's mind that she unintentionally hung onto it like a lifeline for years. _but i suppose that's why we're here. to make it better._  
  
severa wonders if that's the moment she first fell in love with the princess of ylisse.

* * *

  
  
grief is not permanent. eventually it fades, and lucina smiles again and throws herself into her training and into her friends. she starts going outside the garrison hunting when she is fourteen. she comes back with more people sometimes— children of her father's friends she has perhaps only ever met once or never met at all, but she trusts them and she will never turn her back on those who need help. robin, her father's tactician, scowls at her for it, and she does not back down.  
  
people need help, severa heard her telling him once. _i won't let them suffer knowing i could've done something. not while i'm alive._ and robin sighs, and lets her, but says she ought to keep herself safe. lucina said she will but severa knows she didn't really mean it. and severa understands.  
  
lucina is sixteen and severa is fifteen when they talk in the hayloft again. they have been busy on the battlefield with the other soldiers. severa watches her little cousin cynthia, whom she's looked out for since she was six and cynthia was three, mount the pegasus that belonged to her mother and take off into the skies severa has come to associate with fear. severa stays on the ground with her knives and shortsword, sneaking through enemy lines and stealing their supplies. the amount of living people there are behind the risen has gotten lower as time has gone on.  
  
there are whispers that ylisse is falling apart. severa doesn't care about what countries and borders mean so long as she can still follow lucina to the ends of the very earth. severa one day realizes, with startling calmness, that she would die for lucina. perhaps she's always wanted to, and was waiting for an opportunity.  
  
_there are rumors that my father was murdered,_ lucina said to her. they were closer then than they were as children. their heads were next to each other. lucina's head was at severa's shoulder, and severa's at lucina's. the moment, to severa, felt more intimate than it did when they were children.  
  
_murdered?_ severa had to ask. _by who?_  
  
_i don't know,_ lucina told her. she watches the stars through the hole in the barn roof. _but i intend to find out._  
  
_and how are you going to do that?_ severa asked.  
  
_was that in doubt?_ lucina asked in reply. her voice was teasing.  
  
_gods, no,_ severa promised. _i'd follow you anywhere, under any flag and for any cause._  
  
_i know,_ lucina said. _you're my best friend, severa. i'm lucky to have you._  
  
_just don't do anything stupid,_ severa scoffed. _i can't follow you if you're dead._  
  
_most certainly true,_ lucina admitted. still. _i'm lucky to have you._  
  
severa had felt her face go red. she'd stammered something like _y-yeah, whatever, stupid_ and lucina had chuckled, like she found it funny the way she made severa's heart race and palms sweat.  
  
severa had taken a breath. her heart beat loud in her ears. _i'm lucky to have you, too,_ she said. _you give me something to fight for._  
  
_what are you fighting for?_ lucina asked.  
  
_justice,_ severa had replied. _hope. safety. a bunch of those pretty words you like to say. but mostly?_ and she had swallowed. _i'm fighting for you._  
  
_for me?_ lucina had repeated.  
  
_yes, you, stupid,_ severa said as she reached up and swatted lucina's forehead. _i don't know where i'd be without you._  
  
lucina had hummed. _is that why you love me?_  
  
severa felt her entire face burning. she sat up abruptly, hay sticking to her hair. _what?_ she demanded. _who told you?_  
  
_i wasn't born yesterday,_ lucina teases. _i know._  
  
_oh,_ severa had said. lucina sat up and leaned in closer, their foreheads touching. this was more intimate than it had been just a moment before, by tenfold.  
  
_i'm very glad,_ lucina said, and her voice dropped to one that makes something in severa's core feel warm. _do you even know how you sound?_ severa wanted to shout. she probably didn't. but they were both teenagers who don't know what they're doing and by all the gods that severa doesn't believe in, she absolutely _did not want to stop._  
  
severa tried to say something in response, but nothing came out. so she pushed their lips together for the first time and what feels like it'll be the last— they could die tomorrow and severa wanted this, just once. they did not speak again that night.  
  
severa woke the next morning in the hay with lucina's arms around her, legs tangled together, with hay in places hay ought not to be. it was hot and her skin clung with a thin veneer of sweat to lucina's. lucina has freckles on her toned stomach. severa traced them with her fingers as lucina slept.  
  
her long blue hair was spread out on the sweet-smelling hay. the golden morning sunlight shone through the holes in the roof and lit up her slumbering face in a way severa could only describe as angelic. _wow,_ severa thought. _wow_.  
  
_i would die for you,_ she thought then. no hesitation. _if you asked me to walk off a cliff, i would do it without a moment's thought. if you asked me to fall on your blade for any reason, i would be the first to point the sword at my own neck. all for you._  
  
perhaps it's not healthy. but when has this world ever cared about how healthy its children were as it takes their parents and friends? put simply, who gives a damn?  
  
_i don't regret last night,_ lucina murmured. _but we ought not to do it again._  
  
_if you change your mind,_ severa said, and hated herself for how desperate it sounded. _if you change your mind, i'll be here for you._  
  
in three years, lucina changes her mind six times. their encounters are secret and lucina is always sweet to her in the mornings, when they dress again and severa combs the hay from her hair. she kisses severa's cheek and tells her how beautiful she is, and then once they leave the loft they are simply commander and soldier. it makes severa feel somewhat like a king's secret courtesan— some nights loved selfishly, recklessly, body and soul belonging all to one, only for the heat of the night to fade in the morning and it's like it never happened. but severa will not forget.  
  
_i think i'm in love with robin,_ lucina confessed to her after the sixth time. _i'm sorry, severa._  
  
_it's alright,_ severa told her, though her insides felt like they'd just fallen through the floor. _we didn't even…_  
  
_this was for the best,_ lucina said. _thank you, for everything. i hope we can still be friends._  
  
_sure,_ severa said. her mouth is dry. she wants to scream, _robin? really? you're falling for your father's tactician? he's old enough to be your father himself!_ some nasty part of her entertains the thought that lucina's been seduced or blackmailed into it, but she doesn't really believe that. she doesn't doubt they both know how strange and backwards and wrong it is, but she has seen the way they interact lately. she knows what love looks like even if the love she knows for lucina may as well be as hollow as the love one feels for a symbol and deludes oneself into thinking it's real and consummate. it's not. it never will be.  
  
so their nighttime meetings in the hay stop even if severa finds herself there staring at the sky through the hole in the roof. _she has certainly told robin by now,_ she thought to herself one night. _of course he accepted her feelings. they're probably in his bunk right now, and his arms are around her like hers were around me. he can give her all i can't. it's for the best._  
  
severa cannot delude herself enough to push the heartbreak away. she cried without sound some nights in the hayloft. she didn't want to wake lucina and pull her away from her happiness.  
  
lucina and robin keep their relationship secret, but everybody knows about it anyway. a year later he died. it's a strange death— he went off in the middle of the night, sat on a hill outside the garrison, and literally tore himself apart. his own hands did it, severa heard the medics whisper. _i saw them. he'd dug them into his chest and broken his own ribs. he ripped his own chest apart and up and died, right there._ they ruled it a suicide and the death scribe put it in the ledger as such.  
  
lucina did not cry at the vigil. severa worries for her— but what else is new? at least they've started speaking again, sort of. they exchanged little other than smalltalk as people kept dying outside the garrison and exalt lissa was the last of the mothers to die, holding off an entire wave of risen with a staff in one hand and an axe in the other. lucina spoke tersely and withdrew, and sometimes severa saw her try to practice but she'd just stare at nothing, back straight like she was trying not to take up space. as the months passed it became evident that lucina was pregnant with a child robin will never see, and the baby girl was born in what remains of the infirmary, tiny and screaming and covered in her mother's blood. brady delivered her and said later he never wants to do that again.  
  
_it's the messy, bloody, gross, disgusting, fuckin' miracle of life,_ he said to severa. _sometimes i'm right glad i ain't never havin' any of them brats myself._  
  
lucina named the baby morgan. severa never asks why.  
  
when morgan is two days old and swaddled in a singed curtain that once hung in the library, the last of the garrison is attacked and destroyed. the few living enemies they have reveled in their victory in the burning night as lucina led away those who are left, a handful of young adults and teenagers with nothing but their weapons and the clothes on their backs and a few scattered personal belongings, away to the promise of safety. she was the exalt now— she, the woman with the bi-colored eyes and an unbreakable legendary sword on her back and an infant in a handmade sling at her breast, promised she would lead them to safety. and though few believed her, admittedly, they were all her friends, and had pledged that they would follow her through deadly infernos and raging blizzards alike, into darkness and through blinding light, and lay down their lives for her if need be. they made a banner out of her father's old cape, tattered at the edges, and painted a butterfly on the white part with half-empty bottles of ink. cynthia tied it to her mother's old lance and made it a flag.  
  
so began life on the road— whatever remained of the roads that once crossed the continent. lucina's army of the faithful and the desperate walked, none of them certain where they were going. they slept beneath stars that shine despite everything that has happened, in abandoned buildings and caves and under trees. never in the same place two nights in a row. risen crop up at every turn and more often than not they have to flee because they just keep coming. morgan was four months old and growing a head of soft blue curls when laurent brought up the potential for time travel.  
  
_it's just a theory of mine now,_ he explained to the group. _since i've gotten further in decrypting my mother's notes, i wonder if we can't leave this world to the wolves and find somewhere else._  
  
_it's crazy,_ gerome decided.  
  
_how do we know it won't kill us all?_ yarne brought up.  
  
_how do you do time travel without massive amounts of magic?_ owain demanded.  
  
_but what if there are still people here that we can help?_ cynthia asked.  
  
laurent tried but he could not talk over the clamor. he looked helplessly at lucina, morgan's tiny fist tugging at the coarse fabric of her half-undone shirt.  
  
Lucina stared at the embers of their campfire. _it could work,_ she said.  
  
and even severa looked at her like she'd gone crazy. but lucina said, _i know of magic that could grant us the power to travel through time. we could stop this before it all begins._  
  
_we wouldn't be able to return,_ laurent said, cautious. _and there's no telling when we'll arrive in that timeline. "we" will already have places in that universe whether we are born then or not._  
  
_if it means i save our future, then i'll do it,_ lucina said. and she had that glimmer in her eye that severa knows means she's absolutely terrified but she's not about to give up.  
  
_but what about this world?_ cynthia demands. _there may be people that need our help here._  
  
lucina shook her head. _we've been all over the continent,_ she said. _look around. this place is nothing but bones. the gods are dead and we're going to die too if we stay here. we're the future now._ and she set her hand on morgan's little head and everyone understood.  
  
_it's decided,_ lucina said. we're leaving for mount prism tomorrow. _get a good night's sleep, everyone. i'll take watch._ she used that voice that means nobody can argue with her, so nobody did.  
  
but severa stayed up. at the mouth of the cave they've chosen for their hideout, lucina's sharp eyes scanned the horizon. she bounced morgan gently in her arms, soothing the baby to sleep. lucina had her hair tied back behind her head, secured with string. there are dark circles beneath her eyes and it's not because of the baby.  
  
severa sat down next to her without lucina noticing. they sat in silence for a minute. severa looks at the stars. they look different when she isn't seeing them through the crumbling roof of the barn.  
  
_nice night,_ severa said, quietly. _lucina turns her head._  
  
_i suppose it is,_ she replied, just as quietly. _what are your thoughts on this whole… time travel thing?_  
  
severa shrugged. _i meant what i said about following you anywhere, under any flag. if that means i follow you through space and time, then so be it._  
  
lucina smiled when she thought about it, but it was hollow. _i remember when you said that. in the barn._  
  
severa felt her throat close. she nodded.  
  
_i'm sorry,_ lucina said next. _about… all of that. you deserved better from me than a few nights of sex and a broken heart._  
  
_you didn't break my heart,_ severa tried to say.  
  
_don't lie, severa,_ lucina cut her off. _i know i did. when i told you about robin._  
  
severa swallowed. she was right.  
  
lucina looked at morgan, who's fallen asleep sucking on her fingers. she smiled, just a little.  
  
_i shouldn't have pursued that relationship with robin,_ she mused. _i don't know what i was thinking. i knew that neither of us was happy the first night we slept together and i felt sick afterwards. but i suppose that if i'd said no, morgan wouldn't be here._  
  
_it's the messy, bloody, gross, disgusting, fuckin' miracle of life,_ severa said. _brady told me so on her birthday._  
  
and lucina laughed, an honest laugh that is quiet and subdued but sounds to severa like sunshine warming limbs that have forgotten what it's like to be warm. severa found herself smiling, just a bit. has lucina always felt like home, or is that some sort of pheromone she's putting out as a new mother? lucina never asked to be a mother but she is determined that morgan will not grow up feeling hungry and unloved.  
  
_still,_ she said, her chuckling fading. _you deserved better than that. i'm sorry._  
  
severa's heart pounded. it shouldn't— it's been years since they so much as touched, since they shared kisses in the hay at the garrison. she should be over lucina.  
  
and yet, she wants.  
  
severa licked her lips. _it's alright,_ she tried to say.  
  
_no, it's not,_ lucina insisted. she took severa's hand. _what i did was thoughtless and needlessly cruel to you. i've missed you since then— we haven't been able to talk like we used to without it being weird._  
  
_things are weird by default,_ in case you haven't noticed, severa snorts.  
  
_even so,_ lucina continued. _can we put it behind us? i've missed my best friend._  
  
it was an earnest and honest apology. something in severa's chest fluttered.  
  
_i think we can,_ severa said. _just because you stopped loving me doesn't mean things have to be awkward, right?_  
  
_who said i stopped loving you?_ lucina replied. _at the time, i— i thought it was better we kept our relationship platonic. i thought what i felt for robin was truly romantic, as opposed to just desperation. i liked the way he told me pretty things that don't even matter now because the whole time he was thinking of my father. i thought how strange it felt was how love was supposed to feel. i thought i was supposed to feel sick and shaky because of butterflies in my stomach. i thought it was supposed to hurt. but then i look at you and it feels like everything will be alright no matter how scary it may get, and now i think that is what love is supposed to be._  
  
severa didn't know what to say. but lucina isn't done.  
  
_robin told me one night, before he died,_ she continued. _he loved my father once. he never said anything about it, just thought himself undeserving and watched as my father married my mother. i didn't take him seriously. i told him that if he'd gotten his shit together and told my father, it'd have gone a lot better for them both. then he wouldn't have needed second-best._  
  
it took severa a moment to realize she was talking about herself. _who says you're second-best?_ severa said hotly. _i know robin's dead, but if he made you think that, i'm going to dig up his damned corpse and smack him! you could never be second-best to anything!_  
  
_it's sweet of you to say,_ lucina said, which is lucina-code for 'i don't believe you, but thanks for trying.'  
  
severa licked her lips. _nobody should feel like they're just second-best,_ she said. _i know what it's like to grow up in the shadow of a dead parent._ and perhaps that's too personal but dammit, they're going to go back in time and stop the death of the world before it begins and could very well die in the process. if any is a time for personal, it's now.  
  
_i never stopped loving you,_ severa says. _because you make me feel like i don't have to be second-best. that i have my own purpose, fighting for you. i'm nobody but me when i'm with you. i'm not knight-captain cordelia's daughter, not a— a thief-spawned heathen. i'm just severa, and with you, that's alright. and you can't just stop loving someone when that's how they make you feel._  
  
_i understand,_ lucina says. _i've never met someone i can trust more than you, severa. you care about who i am past all my words about hope and justice, past the stupid legendary sword. with you, i can be lucina and not the leader. it's…_  
  
_refreshing,_ severa finishes. _yeah._  
  
_perhaps we have more in common than we think,_ lucina says, corners of her mouth rising in a smile. she dimples when she smiles, severa noticed. how had she not noticed that before?  
  
_you could never be second best,_ severa repeated. _not to me. not to any of the rest of them. look at those kids over there and tell me they don't see you as anything but a hero._  
  
_i'm a symbol to them,_ lucina said. there's no self-deprication; she says it as a fact. _they see me as a leader, certainly, but as a representative for something they're missing from the rotten life this world has given them. justice, or revenge, or hope. something like that. they follow me because the alternative is dying. perhaps that's how it should be— i can lead them to safety regardless of whether they believe me or not. as long as it works._  
  
severa can't say she's wrong.  
  
_you're not a symbol to me,_ she said. _well, you were, once. but not anymore— i can't love you like i know i do now and see you as a figurehead or means to an end, i just can't. i love your freckles and your laugh and the way you dimple when you smile and how you hate blackberries because you think they're too bitter and the seeds have no business being where they are and the way you sing lullabies to morgan when you think nobody's listening even though you're tone-deaf. i love your abysmal fashion sense and your boneheaded hero complex and the way you piss me off so fucking much because i can't help but worry every time you lift your sword that it'll be the last and gods dammit i love you, all of you, and all the worrying and frustration that comes with it because as much as you piss me off sometimes seeing you happy, really happy, makes it all worthwhile. and maybe things won't be okay but as long as we're alive and together do they really have to be?_  
  
and lucina didn't respond. but she leaned over and kissed severa, gently, all the tenderness severa remembered from mornings in the hayloft when lucina kissed her cheek and told her how beautiful she was, and severa put it down to pretty mornings and decent lighting but there's something about lucina that makes her think for a second that maybe she can believe it. it was nighttime and lucina had a baby sleeping at her breast and her hand on the back of severa's head, and there were stars shining as bright as they ever did even though the world was taking its last heaving, shivering breaths. lucina's blue eyes gleamed in the starlight and it looked like there are galaxies reflected in them but in the moment severa mostly sees love, whole and pure, and her cheeks dusted in pink and her lips smiling and in the moment severa wants nothing more than to kiss them again.  
  
so she does. and it is whole and pure and severa feels something inside her fall apart and something new grow, feeling like a butterfly shake the liquid off its wings and take its first flaps into the night. and she would not trade it for the world.  
  
it took another month to hike from the west coast of ferox to mount prism. morgan liked grabbing huge fistfuls of people's hair and yanking as hard as she could, and giggling like it was all a fantastic game. _you see why i wear my hair up all the time,_ lucina said to severa when she uncertainly took morgan from her mother sometime at the beginning of the month and set her on her lap, and to the consequent scalp-tugging that followed. and morgan laughed and laughed and thought it was very funny, and severa grumbled and tied her hair back with a green gingham hair ribbon she's kept in her pocket for ages. she wondered why anybody even has kids if they're little shits for the first several months. it's the messy, bloody, gross, disgusting, _fuckin_ ' miracle of life.  
  
she asked lucina one day, as they're walking and she's holding morgan, why she and robin decided to have a kid. and lucina got this look on her face like she's remembering something that isn't precisely unpleasant or harrowing, something that reminds severa of when she'd stare into space for minutes on end, but something she'd prefer not thinking about, and said, _i didn't._ severa knows what she means and disgust rises in her gut. if they hadn't burned robin's body and if the point weren't moot, severa really would dig up his corpse and smack him. with a sword.  
  
and then she added, _i suppose that's why i have a preference. all those times in the hayloft we had never carried the risk of either of us getting pregnant. i'd say once is enough for me._  
  
and that's entirely fair, and good to know. so they kept walking.  
  
severa didn't believe in this "awakening" thing at first. she has never really believed in the gods, so how is she supposed to believe that some ancient ritual will call upon the spirit of the long-dead naga and crack open a door to another universe that may not even work right and may in fact kill them all? it all seemed highly suspect. but lucina believed it would work with a fervor severa hadn't seen in years, and it wasn't like they had another choice.  
  
they didn't have all the right components, per say, lucina explained to the group once they hiked up the mountain and congregated at the shrine. but it should work, sort of. it's their only shot. and the collective reasoning among the rest of the army was to shrug and say _alright, you're the boss, it's not like we have a better option._ because that's what life has come to.  
  
and it worked! somehow! somehow the ancient dragon god naga has answered this one prayer with what remains of her spirit and tested lucina's soul in holy fire or something, severa didn't pay attention to the details, and lucina basically punched open a gate to another timeline with her glowing legendary sword. whatever, it could be weirder.  
  
lucina gave her motivational speech with sweaty palms and a cracking voice, and severa listened, she really did. she held morgan, just shy of six months old, on her lap and tucked her soft blue curls that keep getting in her eyes behind one tiny little round ear. they're a bit big and stick out from her head— they match lucina's.  
  
_you're going to look just like your mama one day,_ severa murmured. morgan, chewing with brand-new baby teeth on a tiny doll gerome made from fabric scraps, drooled.  
  
a thought occured to her. she reached into her pocket and pulled out another green gingham ribbon and a pair of little white hair clips, shaped like tiny pegasus wings. one went on the left side, and the other on the right, pinning morgan's baby curls back from her face. lovely.  
  
she tucked the ribbon back in her pocket. it was quite worn at that point, but she couldn't make herself get rid of it. perhaps someday she'd find a use for it, but until then, it was just proof she was a disorganized hopeless romantic.  
  
lucina took morgan once her speech was done, and noticed the clips. _yours?_ she asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
severa realized perhaps lucina didn't want random hair clips on her baby. _her hair kept getting in her eyes, so i--_ she explained lamely. _yeah. i'll take them off if you want._  
  
_no, no, i like them,_ lucina insisted. _but that's not the point. severa._  
  
_what?_ severa asked.  
  
lucina kissed her. _i'm going through the gate first,_ she murmured, their foreheads pressed together. _promise me i'll see you on the other side._  
  
_i promise,_ severa said. _even if i have to drag myself to your side, you'll see me again. and can you promise me that, too?_  
  
_even if i have to scour the globe,_ lucina promised. _you'll see me again. and then we can all be a family._ the family morgan deserves. she didn't say that last part, but severa knew she was thinking it.  
  
_stay safe, then,_ she said to lucina. they kissed again. and then severa kissed morgan's little forehead. _you too, peanut._  
  
and lucina kisses her one last time, and tucks morgan closer to her side. she kisses her baby's head, fixes the butterfly mask gerome made her, draws her sword, and leaps into the gate, leaping towards hope for their future.  
  
severa knows this is not the last time they'll see each other.  
  
severa woke up in northeastern ylisse, in somebody's potato farm, her stomach lurching from the leap through time and dirt on her face and under her nails. the angry potato farmer tried to move her with a broom, which went about as well as one would expect, and when severa asked blearily what year it was, he said the year. and severa couldn't help but grin. she thanked him, brushed the dirt off her knees, and sprinted off on a wild search for her friends.  
  
when she saw lucina again, it had been three years. she was twenty-four and in the middle of something, _thank you very much,_ never mind that she was perhaps charging in to the situation while being grossly underpowered. she stood and brushed the grass off her armor, and some guy put his hand on her arm.  
  
_hey, are you alright?_ he asked. severa squinted at him. he was pale-ish and very square-shaped, and had a mess of blue hair on his head. he had a strong jaw and a short nose and ears that were very round and stuck out from the sides of his head.  
  
_oh, it's you,_ she realized, without enthusiasm.  
  
lord chrom, exalt of ylisse, lucina's father, and severa's dead mother's liege, looked mildly confused. _excuse me?_  
  
and then someone shouted _severa!_ and the rest of the world stopped mattering. her expression morphed from mild disgust to joy in the span of a second. lucina scooped her into a hug made of hard armor and leather edges, but so, so tight severa doubted she'd be able to let go anytime soon.  
  
_i told you i'd see you again,_ severa whispered, and it felt like her face was about to split from her smiling so wide. and lucina grinned, a massive dorky grin that is not lessened by the new scars on her face, and kissed her.  
  
_i'm glad i made you promise,_ lucina said. _now let's finish with these idiots and go back to the garrison. the others will be excited to see you again._  
  
severa nodded, and picked up her sword. she heard chrom ask lucina, _a friend of yours?_  
  
lucina replied, still grinning, _you could say friend, i suppose. only because we never got around to making anything official. it's hard to find the customary trinkets for one's lover in a world that is actively rolling over and dying._  
  
_i should've guessed,_ chrom muttered. _if there's a crazy traumatized kid with a weapon looking for their parents, of course you know them._  
  
and lucina grinned, and shrugged, and nodded. _you should've seen my army when it was at its peak,_ she said. _so many were there that never made it to the gate._  
  
_perhaps building your army will go better this time around,_ chrom says.  
  
(and lucina thought to herself, _with luck, it won't have to,_ but didn't say it. instead she nodded, and went back to the battle.)  
  
the shepherds (because that is their name, severa remembers) returned to the garrison with severa, and she admitted she was not expecting the warm welcome.  
  
cynthia tackled her the second she saw her across the courtyard, which in hindsight was to be expected. brady cried. there was a group hug. severa never remembered feeling so loved before— _it's nice,_ she admitted. and she remembered then, _oh, right. i_ do _have a family._  
  
and she decides she won't let this one go.  
  
a little girl with blue curls and little white hair clips ran up to lucina then, clinging to her. and lucina crouched and kissed her head, and said, _i promised you i'd come back to you, morgan._  
  
_i know you did,_ mama, the little girl said.  
  
_morgan, here,_ lucina said, standing and taking her hand. _there's someone i want you to meet._  
  
and severa was at a loss. morgan stared up at her, big brown eyes (robin's eyes but his were always sad, somehow, like he was pondering a world that he could never be a part of whilst something else controlled his actions) wide and intelligent, and tilted her head in confusion.  
  
_hello,_ she said, clinging to lucina's hand. _i'm morgan._  
  
severa looks from the little girl with messy hair and scabby knees and a toy sword in one hand to lucina, beaming like it's the happiest day of her life, and stares helplessly. she asked silently, _what am i supposed to do? she doesn't remember me._  
  
_just say hello,_ lucina answered. _i've told her about you. you can do this._  
  
so severa crouched, and smiled, and said, _hey there, peanut. my name's severa._  
  
_i'm not a peanut, i'm morgan,_ morgan protested, matter-of-fact. _are you the same sev'ra that mama loves a whole lot?_  
  
she looked back up at lucina, and her eyes were shining.  
  
_i suppose i am,_ severa says, feeling something well up in her chest.  
  
_well, if mama says so,_ morgan shrugs. _i guess you're probably okay._  
  
severa had to laugh. because what is her life worth if her relationship isn't approved by her partner's four-year-old child? but it's all worth it to see lucina pick her daughter up and put her on her hip and then look at severa like it's the happiest she's ever been. severa would give anything to see lucina feel that every day of her life.  
  
and if somebody had said to her then, _severa, do you believe in the gods?_ she would've looked at them curiously, and thought about it.  
  
and she'd say, _if moments like this can exist, i'm sure the gods can, too._


End file.
